Prince Of Deductions
by Delxaz
Summary: A Sherlock AU where Sherlock is a prince, and John is his bodyguard. (This was written by my friend) (Feel free to leave reviews! We really want to know what you think of the story!)
1. Chapter 1

"Come now, brother dear. You must stop these… These…"

"Mischievous outings? Sneaking out? Escaping your grasp?"

"Childish shenanigans."

"Oh." The dark, curly-haired man flopped down onto his massive bed. "But I am not a child, therefore-"

"If you act like a child, you will be treated like one! Really now, little brother, this must end."

"I cannot help that there is nothing to do in this entire god-forsaken building."

The older man huffed. "There is plenty to do."

"Liar."

"You could go ride a horse."

"Dull."

"Or you could take up fencing."

"How incredibly dull."

"Go read in the library then."

"I already have."

"Could you at least try to keep yourself occupied?"

The younger man sat up, annoyed. "I am! I have been! You don't need to babysit me, Mycroft! I am perfectly fine!"

"Clearly you aren't!" Mycroft took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Sherlock, you are making our entire family look bad."

"Worse than you already do? Well that's quite the accomplishment then." The man fell back onto his bed with a sigh.

The older brother's shoulders slumped for a moment before he stood up straight again. "You are being assigned a new guard."

This had Sherlock jumping out of the bed. "I've escaped before, I'll do it again." He was fed up with his brother's hovering. He wasn't about to be babysat by another idiot attempting to get on the good side of his family.

"This is the fifteenth one this month! Just give him a try, will you? He's different."

"The other fourteen were ridiculously simple when you claimed they were the best of the best. Am I wrong? No I am not. I never am, and I am not going to be wrong about this one. He will be gone before the week is out, I guarantee it!" Sherlock strode up to stand right in front of his older brother. "You aren't king yet, Mycroft. You. Can't. Control. Me." He studied the other man's expression and smirked. "Ah… I see… That bugs you, doesn't it? Drives you crazy that you can command an army, yet can't control your pesky little brother."

The lighter-haired man turned away. "It does not matter how it affects me. What matters is that you do not get into anymore trouble!"

Sherlock grinned and sat back on his bed. "You'll need me. You know you'll be lost without me. Crime rates will go up. People will riot or die. Criminals on the loose!" His voice began to rise and he stood on his bed. "Animals escaping! Mass hysteria as the kingdom tries to go on without their Prince Sherlock solving crimes and mysteries!"

"Enough with the drama, Sherlock." Mycroft started walking for the door. "Your new guard will be here within the hour. Try not to injure yourself until then."

"No promises!" Sherlock called as the door slammed shut. He groaned and fell back onto the bed. He watched the ceiling for a moment, then rolled onto his stomach on the side of his bed. He snatched a handgun off his bedside table and checked the weight. It had five bullets left, judging by the weight. He sighed and aimed at the wall. He fired off one shot, then another, then rolled onto his back and fired off the last three. He sighed and was about to grab another clip from his private stash of ammunition when the door burst open.

"Your Highness? Your Highness? Are you alright?" A short, blonde man in a military captain's uniform ran in. Clearly he was supposed to be his new guard.

'Interesting…' Sherlock sat up and studied the man. 'Experienced. Stiff shoulder. Injured. Most likely recently. Shot in battle? Yes. Definitely. New. Unaccustomed to my… antics. This will be fun.' He grinned. "Hello there."

The shorter man's eyes were wide as he took in the entire room, a hand on the gun in his holster. Then his eyes roved over the young prince. Judging by his gaze, he had a medical background. 'Very interesting...'

"Were you shooting the wall?" The new guard asked incredulously.

"Of course." Sherlock said simply. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know." The man shrugged. "You like solving crimes, don't you?"

"Ah, so you've heard of me." Sherlock stood on his bed, walked off the edge and up to the man. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

The man blinked and took a step back. "Wh-. Wait, what?"

"Afghanistan. Or. Iraq?" The prince said slowly, pronouncing every word clearly.

"Afghanistan. How did you-?"

"Clearly you are a man of military background. Your reflexes say experience in tense situations. Your uniform tells me you are a captain. You stand straight with a stiff shoulder, you were probably injured. Recently, if I had to guess. If you had been born with it, you would be able to hide it. If it was just a random "slept-on-it-wrong" situation, you would be in more pain and moving it even less. You have tan lines-"

"Alright, alright!" The man was smirking. "That was amazing, and you are barely talking slow enough that I can understand you. Clearly I am outmatched."

"Clearly." Sherlock said in a bored voice. He sighed and turned away. "Why don't we just keep this simple. I'll escape and you'll go running to my brother to tell him I went missing. You'll get reassigned and you won't have to deal with me anymore." He sounded exasperated, like he was sick of saying this.

The blonde man laughed. "You think you will get rid of me that easily?" He saluted the prince. "Captain John Watson, your Highness. I'll be your… Assistant until you or Prince Mycroft deem otherwise."

Sherlock had started to climb back on his bed, but suddenly turned back to face the other man. "Assistant?"

John nodded. "I was instructed to keep an eye on you and protect you, and judging by your persistence to solve crimes, I will simply have to follow you and help you where you go."

The dark-haired man studied him. "You saw a lot of bloody and horrible things as an army doctor, didn't you?"

Watson snickered. "I'm not even going to ask how you knew that, but yes. Enough to last a lifetime."

Prince Sherlock grinned. "Would you like to see some more?"

"Oh god, yes."

The curly-haired man laughed. "Come." He snatched a long coat off his bed and strode out the door, leaving his new guard to follow behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

"What have you got for me, Lestrade? Anything interesting?" Sherlock strolled into the Detective Inspector's office, Watson right behind him.

The older man huffed. "Your highness, you aren't supposed to be here."

"Oh cut the act, Lestrade. My brother isn't here and I have a guard with me. Besides, without me, Scotland Yard would fall apart."

Watson gave a slight bow, acknowledging the detective. "Sir, I am John Watson, Sherlock's new guard."

Lestrade sat back with a small grin. "I'm surprised, your highness. You don't usually allow your guards to follow you."

The slender prince rolled his eyes. "Of course. But Watson is my assistant. I'm giving him a try. He's… different than the usual spineless puppets my brother uses."

The captain had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at the proud prince.

Lestrade seemed to understand his frustration and smirked. "Alright, alright. Let's see…" He turned his attention to a pile of papers on his desk. "Ah, a cage of live turtles went missing yesterday morning. 27 turtles were taken."

"How boring." Sherlock sighed. "Anything else?"

Watson frowned. "Wait, what did you say? Someone stole 27 turtles?"

The older man nodded. "Yes. Hm, a Miss Aubrey Hatchen claims that her cat is trying to kill her."

The prince groaned. "Dull."

"Why would her cat try to kill her?" The soldier asked incredulously.

"Have you ever owned a cat? Those beasts are cunning." Lestrade sighed. "A mother says that her children have begun constantly assaulting her with jello-"

"Probably a childish bet or prank or such." The curly-haired man sounded frustrated. "Come on, Lestrade. Give me something! I'm incredibly bored!"

John studied him. "Is he always-"

"Yes." The inspector flipped the page. "Ah, here is something that might interest you, your highness." He held up the page and Sherlock snatched it from his grasp.

"Blah blah blah… New apartment above an old one… Blah blah blah… Claims it's haunted… Blah blah blah… Oh! Three deaths so far! Goody! Come, Watson. The game is on!"

Watson was left to scramble behind the prince as the taller man strode out.

Sherlock raised his arm. "Taxi!" He yelled, making the doctor jump.

"Prince Sherlock, where are you going?" John quickly took in the area. "You can't just run off like that."

"We are going to the crime scene, of course! Keep up, Watson! I thought you were smart." The taller man huffed as a cab pulled up to them. He leaped in and the doctor had to quickly climb in after him.

Prince Sherlock rattled off an address and the cab took off as soon as the door next to John closed. "Your highness, I have to ask that you please wait for me. My main concern is your safety and you running off at a moment's notice doesn't make that any easier."

"Crime waits for no man, Captain. The game is on. Let's go catch us a killer!" The dark haired man seemed almost giddy. He was fidgeting in his seat like an impatient child on Christmas.

He glanced at the army doctor more than once, but Watson was far more worried about the possibilities of a sniper or a car crash. Or a hit and run. Or an explosion. Or-

"No need to look so worried, Captain." The prince sighed. "I am perfectly fine."

"Excuse me, for disagreeing with you, but I do not feel you are safe unless we are someplace secure." John glanced out the windshield again. "This is not the best mode of transportation…"

Sherlock shrugged. "It is faster and more convenient. I assure you, Doctor, that I am just as concerned for my own health as you are."

Watson shook his head but didn't speak.

After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, the son of the king spoke up. "You have questions? Feel free to ask. I can't stand being treated like I'm a member of… that family."

John looked over at him with a frown. "How did you know I have questions?"

The prince rolled his eyes. "You kept looking at me. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. Really, doctor, do you think I am that blind?"

"O-Of course not, your hi-" At the taller man's glare, he broke off the title. "Of course not. I wasn't thinking. My mind is more focused on your safety."

Sherlock slouched back into his seat. "Well, don't. If anyone was planning to harm me, I'd be the first one to know… Most likely."

John's eyes widened. "Most likely? Then there is still a chance."

"Captain, just relax already. I am fine. Nothing will happen to me."

Just after the words left his mouth, the car in front of them suddenly stopped, and the cab screeched to a halt. The army doctor threw an arm in front of the prince, stopping him from hitting the seat in one quick movement as his heart pounded. The vehicle in front honked at a car that had suddenly pulled out in front of it, then got moving again. Watson's eyes flicked back and forth, taking in everything as the cab began to accelerate again. The adrenaline rush didn't really fade though, and his pulse was racing.

"Sorry, gents." The cabbie called back. "Some people don't deserve to drive." He reached out his window and flipped off the offending car before continuing down the street.

It was a full two minutes before John moved his arm away. "Are you okay?"

Sherlock blinked. "Yes. Those were very quick reflexes."

The captain nodded. "Thank you. You kind of had to have them in Afghanistan." He smiled a little, but it faded as he returned his attention to their surroundings.

The prince frowned. "Captain, did you not wish to ask me your questions?"

"Please, your-... Please, just call me John. And yes, but there will be time for that later. How much farther to the crime scene?"

Sherlock immediately answered, "Six and one half minutes, as long as there are no accidents on the streets."

Watson glanced at him and smiled a little. "Alright. I suppose I shouldn't ask how you knew that so quickly."

"I have the streets of London memorized." The taller man answered, sounding bored again. "John, just ask your question. There is nothing better to do in a dull cab ride."

The army doctor sighed. "Alright. I was just wondering… Why solve crimes? Why do police and detective work? Isn't there far more to do?"

Sherlock nodded appreciatively. "Not a bad question. I could see why you would ponder that. You see, I simply love it. It's fun. It isn't like the other boring things my brother tries to get me to do. Besides, I adore a good serial killer." His expression became giddy. "The smart ones are the best. Always wanting to prove themselves. They crave the attention."

John stared at him. "Why?"

"What is genius without an audience? Worthless. The brilliant ones want to be admired. We want to be envied. We want to prove that we are truly more intelligent."

"We?"

The prince sighed. "Not everyone is as admirable of my work as you are. In fact, the first thing you said about it, was that it was amazing. That's not what most people say."

The army doctor frowned. "What do most people say?"

Sherlock glanced out the window with a smirk on his face. "'Piss off.'" He snickered.

Watson couldn't hold back a burst of laughter, but he managed to calm down fairly quickly.

"Stop here!" Sherlock suddenly told the cabbie, and they were nearly thrown forward again.

The cabbie started to say something about the meter being broken, but the prince was far more interested in the crime scene as he threw a handful of cash into the front seat before deftly climbing out.

John followed right behind him, already getting used to the taller man's spontaneous actions. He had a feeling that the prince would be doing things like this a lot.


End file.
